Experiment 7552
by khaddict
Summary: The team's four-month nightmare has finally been caught, only to find that he's somewhat innocent? Vincent, the boy controlled by the mask, has resigned himself to a life behind glass, filled with syringes, pain, torture, and guilt. However, is there any way this apathetic boy can redeem himself?
1. Chapter 1

"It's time, Number 7552." One of the scientists said. It was the fifth time this week I'd been brought to this room and been told the same exact sentence, but the hundredth time I'd been in this situation. I said nothing in return, only picked up the helmet offered to me. Once I put it on, everything went black.

I was floating, laying there in nothingness for a long time before sensations started breaking through. I felt twinges of pain here and there, I saw a few flashes of scenery. I was in a dark place, an alleyway maybe? I heard a few voices break through my fortress of nothingness. They seemed like they were in so much pain, and I didn't want to listen to them. I flung myself further into the darkness to escape them, relishing in the deep quiet that enveloped me. This, this right here, was my happy place. Some outsiders may think this depressing, but it's better than the alternative.

If I surfaced from my fortress, I could hear the screams and feel the pain, yet be able to do nothing about it. I'm not in any sort of control over my body. In fact, I'm practically alien to it. I barely exist at all, once you put things into perspective. I am merely a consciousness trapped in a host that is not my own—not anymore at least.

This body used to be mine, until they figured out how to remote control it. I was braver back then, more daring. Now, I do nothing but follow what the scientist tell me. Honestly, it is for the greater good, isn't it?

And suddenly, I could see again. I could see everything. Vision flooded me and I felt dread fill my stomach. This was not how it was supposed to happen. This is _never_ how it's supposed to happen. I looked around, and I was in some sort of building. There was debris everywhere, hunks of concrete and tubing littered the area I was in. It seemed like the place was abandoned. Oh wait, I was wrong. There was someone coming towards me, and he didn't look too happy. In fact, he looked murderous. His hair was a dark black, his eyes an intense blue. I looked at his chest to find… a weird symbol of an S?

It was then that my sense of feeling came back, and I registered that I was in a very incredible amount of pain. Several of my ribs seemed broken, and my left leg was twisted at an odd angle. Neither of those compared to the pain inside my head. It was like wave after wave of throbbing torture. No wonder I couldn't move, I was completely broken.

Then, my hearing suddenly rushed to me. I heard a groan of pain coming from… was that me. My voice sounded so foreign. It was like I hadn't used it in… oh yeah. I hadn't used it in a good three years.

"You! Do you know what you've done?!"

Oh right, he's here. And he was coming toward me. I probably should've moved. He picked me up by the front of my suit, and I noticed the red metal of it was dented and scratched. I felt a slight twinge of annoyance at that. I'd polished this suit myself.

"Answer me!"

Right. Probably shouldn't be thinking that right now.

The boy threw me down onto the ground with such force that I wouldn't be surprised if I'd made a small crater on impact. I groaned quietly, trying to rear in my pain like I'd taught myself to do for so long. With all the strength I could muster I tried to get back up, but I failed. It would seem I had also broken my right arm. How delightful. Trying again with the left, I found my head shoved right back into the ground with a searing vengeance. I'd really wronged this boy, hadn't I?

"Superboy, that's enough." A grave voice called. The hand that had so rudely shoved me into the ground for probably the umpteenth time retracted itself. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"He's not saying anything. I can hear his heartbeat, I _know_ he's alive." The boy, presumably Superboy claimed. Huh, super boy. How fitting.

"He's also not moving. Did you think He might me unconscious?" another voice resonated into the area, this one lighter. It irked me that I couldn't move my head to see the owners to these voices, but my head was still killing me. Wait… they didn't know if I was conscious? Can't they see my eyes?

"Pick him up. Batman wants to question him." The first voice said. My line of sight narrowly missed the pure outrage in Superboy's eyes, but it was still there. And the next thing I knew, I was roughly tossed over his shoulder.

I muffled my scream of pain. I wasn't used to this much of it at once. I usually woke up back at the containment center with a few minor gashes and maybe a fractured bone or two, nothing that a few hours couldn't fix. But this—this was surreal.

"He just made a sound." Superboy ground out.

"So he can hear us." The third voice mused.

"Then he must understand what predicament he's in." The first voice again.

No, I don't understand. I don't understand any of this madness. Just turn the pain off! Put me back in the darkness! Turn the pain off!

"I still can't read his thoughts. Are you sure he isn't an android?" The second voice.

"He bleeds." The first voice said, as if that answered the girl's question.

It was only then that I realized I was moving. Superboy was taking my limp body wherever he was going. And it also seemed like he was taking every opportunity to jostle me into screaming out. My body had never been this destroyed while I was still around, and I was sure he was taking advantage.

"Is that him?" A new voice asked.

"Oi, he doesn't look good at all." Another one.

"I can't believe he went down that easily." Another voice.

Here were too many of them, I couldn't identify anything. My line of view consisted of Superboy's back and not much else.

Then, I blacked out. Finally, I blacked out. I was floating again, and it was quiet. I wasn't in pain, I didn't have to see Superboy's murderous glare, didn't have to hear the hate and contempt in those voices, the glee in the fact that I was down for the count. I was finally back in my happy place, all alone in the darkness.

* * *

I didn't know how long it'd been since I'd been laying there in my solitude, but it was over as soon as it came. My eyes opened to a room, a barren one, furnished only with a metal table, the chair he was currently sitting in, and a mirror facing me. The mirror was strange, I wasn't supposed to be around those. It was then that I saw I was still wearing my helmet…and it was partially destroyed. It had cracks running along the top, cascading down the front and into my vision. I somewhat wondered what the back would look like. My armor was almost totaled, with the protective lining hanging in damaged pieces off my frame, and all my weapons were nowhere to be seen. I looked like crap.

Then my sense of feeling came back. I was no longer in any pain, although my spine felt stiff and immovable. I wiggled my arm to check its state and, unsurprisingly, it was fully healed. My leg was in the best shape it'd been in for a while, and my ribs didn't feel like they wanted to puncture my lungs.

Then my sense of hearing came. It was quiet, but I could still here the lull of the air conditioner and the few clicks of what sounded like a clock. Somehow, this place was calming, like my happy fortress of darkness. No one was their causing me pain. I was alone and it was near silent.

Then my sense of taste came, and I almost reeled back. My mouth tasted of that foul metal that always accompanied me when I woke up in the labs. I absolutely detest that taste. It was like my tongue had been branded with iron, and it was only now heeling. I could only wash it down with water.

I tried to sit up, maybe find out which room I was in at the labs… but I was tied down to my chair. I was cuffed? This had never happened before when I woke up. Then again, a scientist was always in the room when I came too. There was something off about this. My heart sped up a little bit.

The door to my left finally opened, and in came a man… or at least I thought he was a man. I could not see his face. He wore a black cowl to cover his face, a matching cape cascaded down his back, a grey armored suit, and a belt that presumably had some very dangerous tools enclosed in there.

The man and I stared at each other for a bit. His scowl just kept getting deeper and deeper as we looked at each other.

"Your face will freeze like that if you keep doing it." I muttered.

He didn't answer.

"Can you hear me?"

No answer.

It must be my helmet that was obscuring my speech. I wondered how I could convey that I needed it off without him attacking me. I waved my right hand, then bent over and pointed at my helmet. The man raised an eyebrow at me.

"If you're asking me to take your helmet off, we already tried." The man said. His voice was low and gruff. It would have been intimidating had I not had a German scientist speak to me in the exact same voice.

This guy was useless.

I rolled my eyes and put my head between my knees, reaching for the emergency release. Now that my helmet was obviously powered down, maybe I could use the release hook at its base to remove it. But I was cuffed too well. I pointed to the clasp, hoping that the man would understand. He rounded my chair and took a look at where I was hopefully pointing to. He reached down and felt along the underside of my helmet, finally finding the clasp and unclipping it. With that, my helmet came tumbling off.

I sat back up and shook out my hair, looking again at the mirror. Oh, so that's what my face looked like. I saw black hair that swept to the left side of my face, framing it to a certain degree. My eyes were a blue that I wish I could compare to the sea. I didn't like looking at them, for I found that they were unsettling to stare at. I had a strong jaw and noticeable cheek bones. Noticeable, but not prominent like many of the other experiments. My last striking feature was my skin. I was extremely pale, only making my hair and eyes more prominent. No wonder they forced me to wear a helmet.

"This is strange." I said, to no one in particular.

"What is strange." The man said, still with that complete edge in his voice.

"My face. It is very strange." I answered back. "I thought I'd look more average. They told me my eyes were brown and my hair was blonde. How strange."

"You didn't know what you looked like?"

"No."

I was not allowed to know what I look like—none of us were for that matter. We were kept separated and away from any reflective surface as to not show ourselves our own faces.

"I am sorry. I know I am most likely not here to see my own face." I said, now looking at the man to avoid looking at my reflection.

"What is your name?" The man demanded.

"I do not have a name. Would you like my serial number instead?" I asked. The man however did not take my input very well.

"This is not a joke." He ground out.

"And I am not joking." I said, a little perturbed at him. "My number is 7552. That is my only identification."

The man seemed to scowl even harder than before, if that was even possible. He sent me a look that sent a chill down my spine.

"And what is it you were sent to accomplish?" the man asked.

"I do not know. The mission is not for me to decide." I answered coldly. I did not like to be questioned, and I did not like being thrust from my happy place.

"What do you mean you don't know? You did carry out the mission." The man growled.

"Hardly." I said. "I have no recollection on any of my previous objectives."

"How is that possible?" The man prodded.

"My helmet is equipped with controlling technology that allows them to use my body for their objectives. I have no control over my actions." I said, trying to look the man in the eyes. It was harder than I thought it would be, seeing as his glare was slightly unsettling and his cowl made it to where I could not tell if I was looking directly at him. "When the helmet is in use, they can see into my mind and read all my thoughts like data on a computer screen."

"How can you have absolutely _no_ recollection of your actions?"

"I choose not to." I answered, and for a moment I think I saw the man's eyes widen only a fraction. "The things they make me do are horrifying, damaging, and cruel. I cannot… I could not emotionally handle what I had done if I did not have a way to escape my own mind. Some of the other experiments have gone mad because of the trauma induced upon their minds. I decide to temporarily check out until I am given back control over my body."

"Why do they make you do these things?" The man asked.

"My set of experiments were weaponized beings built for destruction and servitude. We were supposed to be the ultimate soldiers but few of us survived the tests, even fewer the emotional trauma. I believe there are only three remaining, including myself. The scientist overseeing my case said we'd be sold to new controllers for a very high price soon." I said, blinking in disinterest.

"You're sharing this information too easily." The man said in a somewhat suspicious tone, if I could even call it that. It was the barest hint of change. If anything, the man's attitude either stayed stagnant or soured slightly since the beginning of this interrogation.

"Why should I care if you know everything?" I asked. "I am only an experiment that halfway through development was forced to be manually controlled due to insubordination."

"You're doing this to get revenge?" The man asked.

"I do not know what this… revenge is. I was never taught the word. However, I was taught to always give the utmost cooperation to those in your position." I said.

"Those in my position?" The man asked.

"You are the new controller, are you not?" I asked. "I was supposed to be shipped out this week to the first buyer as a prototype."

"Were you created by these people?" The man asked, changing the subject.

"Yes… and no." I answered.

"Explain."

"I was born in the United States, but my mother supposedly sold me into a slave ring I believe. There I was bought by a scientist by the name of Waverly, who thought I was a 'perfect specimen' if I were to quote him. Since then, I was trained, tested on, and ultimately controlled by the age of thirteen."

The man was silent for a few more minutes, seemingly contemplating something. I stared at him the entire time while he stared right back at me. After the silence, the next thing out of his mouth shocked me.

"What would you think of freedom?" He asked.

I looked at him in anger. Freedom? This controller, this-this buyer had the gall to dangle such a precious thing in front of my eyes. If I wasn't so well trained I might have killed him on the spot, trauma be damned.

"Freedom?" I laughed coldly. "Do not mock me."

"It was not a joke." The man stated flatly, as if my change of demeanor did not affect him.

"Of course it was a joke. _Freedom_ is the biggest joke there is for people like you." I bit out.

"Why do you think it's a joke?" The man asked.

"When is it not a joke? You people dangle such a precious concept in front of me, just like the others have. You want to see my hope rise just so you can crush it again. I refuse to play such games, not anymore." I said, a bit of what I thought to be hatred creeping into my voice.

"What happened to the upmost cooperation?" The man said.

"I never said I was well trained." I shot back. "Or weren't you listening. I had to be controlled due to insubordination."

"And what was this insubordination." The man asked, stopping me in my tracks. I hung my head.

"I would not kill." I said. "They ordered me to kill, and I refused."

The man was silent for another few minutes.

"Do you regret it? The decision to spare that life?"

"… No. I would give up this body a thousand times over to save that boy again." I said. "But what of it? Save one and unknowingly kill countless others. Spare me the lecture, I've already heard it plenty of times."

"I was not going to lecture you." The man said. I raised my head, looking at him suspiciously. "Do you know who I am?"

"No." I answered hollowly.

"Have you ever heard of the batman?" He asked.

"Only from scientists in passing. I heard he was a hero who nearly destroyed one of the experiments, thankfully." I said.

"Thankfully?" He asked.

"All three of us believe that we should be… terminated for the greater good." I said.

"That is not going to happen." He said.

"I figured as much." I said. A few seconds passed between us.

"Do you have a question?"

"I am not allowed to ask questions." I said, trying to piece back together as much of my uncaring façade as I could.

"And if you were allowed to ask questions, what would you ask?" The man asked me.

"I would ask many things, but I'd start with why you would bring up the batman."

"I am the batman."

A few seconds of silence passed.

"Many of my questions are going to go unanswered if that is true." I sighed, looking at the ceiling.

"That brings me back to my previous question; what do you think of freedom?"

"I… do not know what I would think of freedom. I have never had true freedom." I said.

"What would you be willing to do to obtain it?"

"Near anything." I answered.

"What do you know of a co-ops team running under the justice league?"

"I know… I have encountered them many times, and I have injured a few of their members. To what extent and which members, I do not know." I answered. "As for what the scientist have said, they are a highly trained team of protégé's that operate under the guidance of the Justice League. They consist of two of the batman's protégés, one of his former protégés, Wonder woman's Protégé, the second Blue beetle, Martian Manhunter's niece, failed experiment Kr, a guardian, an animal shape shifter, the Atom's protégé, and Aquaman's current Protégé."

"Would you be willing to join this team to gain your freedom?"

"However willing I would be, I do not think it would be a wise decision." I said. "I have undoubtedly caused harm to various members of the team, which is wholly unforgivable, therefore no trust could be built and the team would not function as well as it would without me on it."

"And if the team leader himself requested your cooperation, what would you say?"

"If the team leader demands, then I must concede." I answered, the barest hint of a smile forming on my face.

* * *

"Don't take these off. Do not leave this place without specific instructions from either the team leader or a league member. You know not to harm the others, and you will not be attending missions until your mind is searched and you've been cleared through the minimalist training. Is that understood?" The batman asked.

I stood there, now clad in comfortable black pants and a white t-shirt. On my wrists were two high tech bands that were obviously there for either the team's protection or so they could track me if I ever decided to leave on my own. I was given a room of my own that I could leave freely, I had the choice to train or to do other things that I preferred, I could go to the other floors of the building, I could read various books laying around, and I was allowed go to the lagoon that was a part of the base. I was in paradise.

"Yes sir, understood." I answered. It was so strange to be standing in my body and conversing with an actual person outside of an interrogation. "Thank you."

The batman nodded slightly.

"I have to leave. If you cause any trouble. You know the consequences." The batman said.

"Right." I said. "Am… am I allowed to use the kitchen."

The batman did not answer me and chose to leave instead. He went through this tube and…. He disappeared! The technology in the room amazed me.

"I guess that was… a maybe?" I said to myself, shrugging.

I walked into the open kitchen, looking for something to make myself. Cooking was one of the things that I knew how to do well. When experiments started dying because of trauma, we were expected to pick up soothing hobbies to mend our mental states. I chose cooking and piano, while others chose painting or dance. However, this minimal privilege was taken away after experiments kept dying.

"I shouldn't take something they have little of. Pasta should be fine." I said.

I was boiling up some water when I heard a clatter behind me. Turning around I saw an incredibly green girl standing there. I didn't know what to say or what to do. She looked almost frightened of me, which I couldn't blame her for. To spare myself some time before I had to face heated glares and hatred filled actions, I simply turned back to my water and poured the pasta in.

The girl waited for a few seconds before moving around again. She cautiously came close, and then I felt it- the familiar pull of the darkness. I instinctively gave in, but it was only for a few seconds before I found myself on the ground and disoriented.

"A-are you okay?" The green girl asked warily, but her tone was laced slightly with worry.

"I do not know why I wouldn't be." I answered, standing. How strange, I never leave for my happy place without my helmet on. "Please forgive my rudeness."

With that I turned back to my noodles.

"What is your name?" The girl asked.

"I do not have a name. My serial number is 7552." I answered nonchalantly. "..Do you know where the salt is?"

"Oh… it's on the top shelf to your left"

I nodded and turned for the salt.

"Are you _sure_ you don't have a name. You don't remember having one at all." The girl asked.

"You were there." I said, turning and regarding her coldly. "You saw the interrogation."

"Yes, I was." She took a seat at the table, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. "But I know you were lying. That's the only part you lied about."

"The name given to me by my mother was Vincent. She called me Vin for short. However, my name was replaced with 7552, which is now my identification."

"But it isn't anymore." The girl stated. "You're a part of this team and you're not an experiment anymore. So, what is your name?"

"Then I must assume that my name has now been changed back to Vincent." I said. "And while we're discussing this breach in privacy, I have to ask that your friends stop trying to spy on me from the door and actually come in here. I'm only making pasta, so I'm not going to attack you."

The green girl looked slightly taken back but looked to the door to find two boys peering around the doorframe. One was green like the girl, and the other had tanned skin and short black hair.

They slowly entered the kitchen as I started on the sauce.

"Oi, if you were an experiment, how do you know how to cook?" The tanned one asked, but was given a disapproving look from the girl.

"We were ordered to pick up creative hobbies to counteract trauma induced form the objectives given to us without our consent." I said. "It did not work."

With that, I drained the pasta and pored the sauce on top. The other three were sharing looks as if they were communicating with each other.

"Where are your bowls?" I asked. I found it tough to keep forcing myself to ask questions while not flinching. I had to remind myself that I was not at the labs.

"Middle right cabinet." The girl answered.

It was quiet for the next couple of minutes as I sat down and started to eat. The three that lived there were obviously waiting for me to say something, but I didn't know what to say. Sorry for injuring you or your friends, can you pass me the pepper? That didn't sound too good.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally asked, looking at them tiredly.

"What do you mean?" the green boy asked, almost squeaked.

"I've spent a lot of my life being stared at, so I should think I know the difference between what they mean. Which brings me to think that your stares mean you want me to say something. What do you want me to say?" I explained, still eating.

"We didn't mean anything like that." The girl insisted, although I could beg to differ. "We just… we feel like we should get to know you. Well, the real you. The kid behind the mask."

"First off, you should know there was no kid behind that mask. There were three scientists, two businessmen, and one guard that could not tell his head from his toes." I said, coldly looking at them. The two boys looked at their hands while the girl's eyes narrowed slightly. "Second, please do not refrain from asking any questions you feel should be answered. You deserve the right to know."

With that I stood from my seat and headed to the sink.

"Any question we want?" A new voice spoke up. It was the same voice from before, the first one. This boy was much taller the first two, more filled out. He was obviously older and held more respect that the other two boys, but only slightly more than the girl.

"Any question." I nodded then went back to scrubbing my dish.

"What did they do to you?" He asked. I paused my cleaning for a few moments before continuing.

"I was injected with several serums, none of which I know the purpose for but I do know that thirty-five out of thirty-eight failed. During this time, my body was trained to withstand maximum damage, attain highest possible speed and agility, and fight with nearly any weapon. I was tutored in battle strategies, history, mathematics, and science. During the last three years, I was controlled and taken out to finish objectives, but I do not recall what I have done as a personal choice. Although cowardly, I do believe I saved what was left of my sanity."

"And you're completely okay with that?" The boy asked.

"I know nothing else, therefore I cannot judge what I have and what I have not." I answered.

"Really? That bowl looks pretty clean by the way." The boy said. I looked down dumbly at my hands, finding that the bowl was indeed very clean, along with the spoon and fork I had used.

"Ah. I see." I mumbled. I turned ant dried them, not speaking another word.

"Your name?" the boy asked.

"She told me I could not go by my serial number. I have come to the conclusion that I must go by my given name, Vincent." I said. Turning, only to find another person in the room. This boy was massive, a few feet taller than me. He looked at me disapprovingly, and I could only think _'oh, here we go.'_

"Why have you not asked our names?" The girl asked.

"I am… unaccustomed to asking questions. My answers did not com in a very pleasant package." I said.

"You do know… you can ask questions." The girl said.

"No… no I cannot. Please excuse me for the night." I said, turning and walking to my room.

* * *

 ** _What did you think of him?_** Nightwing asked the Martian over the mind link. Little did Vincent know, the entire team was privy to their conversation?

 ** _He's been trained like a dog, and he detests himself for it._** M'gann stated. **_He's filed with so much guilt that he could barely look me in the eyes. He does not want to upset us or trouble us further than what he believes he already has. That is why he did not ask questions, and that is why he left_**.

 ** _What I don't understand is why he didn't fight back in the interrogation._** Cassie said into the link.

 ** _It's like M'gann said, he's been trained to be as obedient as possible. He believes he's no better than a common pet._** Robin surmised.

 ** _I still don't trust him, not after what he did._** Connor thought, leaving the team with a unique bitter feeling.

 ** _None of us are going to find it easy to trust him, but M'gann said that almost everything that has come out of his mouth is true._** Karen stated, trying to be reasonable.

 ** _He was forced into this and he believes he can't ask for help, so let's at least try to be nice._** M'gann said.

There were a few grunts of consent and a couple Okays. With that, the Martian cut the link, leaving the team to do as they pleased once more.

* * *

There were screams and crying and crashing and blood—oh god the blood was everywhere. I nearly couldn't see past all the red due to the sheer amount of it. I ran, ran as fast as I could through it, trying to escape my sins, trying to find my happy place. There was no escape, no solace from this terror—this guilt.

I saw dying men, screaming women, orphaned children, bodies piled higher and higher before me, and I was almost deafened by the intense wails of sorrow that came forth from the survivors. I turned and saw it. This demon was looking at me, holding a scythe bloodied with the blood of thousands. He pointed it at me, and uttered the words that I dreaded most.

 _You did this._

"No—please it wasn't me!" I screamed, and I tried to run again, only to find that I was frozen in place.

 _We did this_

"Stop it, please stop!" I said as it came closer. And then it removed its helmet, and I saw my face staring back at me.

 _We must finish what we started._

The other me raised its scythe and rushed toward me. I closed my eyes, felt the tears streaming down my face. Just as I thought I felt the cool, wet metal barely brush my throat, I bolted straight up.

It was very dark in my new room, and I bumped into all of the few things that were given to me there. Once I finally reached the restroom, I saw my face. Drying trails of tears were littered across my cheeks and my clothes clung to my body in cold sweat.

Again, I looked like crap.

I decided that I needed to get away from that room, so I rushed out into the hallway and raced to the lagoon, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I remembered the screams of the people in my nightmare. I stepped into the elevator and waited to be taken down to the lagoon. My dream plagued me the entire way there.

I stepped onto soft sand as I exited the elevator. Taking in the sight, I forgot about my dream and reveled in the beauty of the place. I had never been allowed outside of the labs without my helmet, so I had never seen such beautiful scenery.

The sand was soft and white, the grass mossy and wet. I cautiously took a few steps forward and found the biggest body of water probably ever. I didn't think I had ever smiled so hard in my entire life.

I rushed into it, feeling the coolness slip around my legs, and I laughed so hard my lungs began to hurt. I threw up the water and watched it rain down on my face while the laughter kept coming. My abs started aching as I crouched down to look at the clear body of water. It only occurred to me a minute later that I my laughs had quietly turned into sobs as I felt the tears return to my face.

So _this_ is what freedom felt like.

* * *

 **So yeah, this sucker has been rolling around in my head for months now. Can't believe I actually put it into words, although I believe I'm going to have to go back over it again tomorrow to fix the inevitable spelling mistakes and maybe a couple of plot points BUT LOOK AT THAT CONCEPT, WHOA GUYS!**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I don't know how soon I can update, I do have another story to take care of (which is like my child), and that chapter is halfway in the making. Have fun, don't be strangers, and don't forget to follow this masterpiece (Full of myself aren't I?)**

* * *

 **BONAS JONAS**

Cassie woke up with a start when she heard a loud crash. Her room was right next to Vincent's, and the walls, while thick, could not keep out that sound.

She rolled out of bed and rubbed her eyes. She peeked out of her room only to find her neighbor rushing down the hall. The girl worriedly thought he was trying to escape, but he was headed in the wrong direction.

Following him quietly and hurriedly, she saw him go down the elevator. Then it hit her; he was going to the lagoon.

She flew down the stairs that no one really ever took to catch the boy's reaction to the place. She made it just in time to see him walk out of the elevator.

She didn't think she'd ever seen a purer look of joy on anyone's face, and it scared her slightly. This emotionless boy, this _monster_ , found joy in seeing the lagoon? She saw the boy run into the water, and look down at it, picking it up with his hands and throwing it into the air, laughing like it was the most wonderful thing he'd done in his entire life. And as he crouched over laughing, she heard his giggles soften into quiet sobs. He raised his head from the water, unknowingly showing her his tear stained face that mixed with the smile she'd seen earlier. After that, she left.

She didn't think it was right to intrude on his moment.


	2. Chapter 2

I spent the entire night in the lagoon, just watching the calm, clear water as I tried to think up a survival strategy. Of course I would need one, I was clearly in unfriendly territory. It hit me in the last few hours of my stay in the base that the people, no matter what I did, what I gave, or how hard I committed myself to their cause, I would be completely unable to gain their trust. Just that night, as I saw a blonde girl-whom I supposed was on the team- leave, I recognized superboy's stature and form com and watch me , only to be followed by the weary but ultimately kind green girl.

As their rotation continued, I tried to think of the best way not to step on anyone's toes. Obviouly any sort of personal question was out. Questions all together were out. Backtalk, sarcasm, and snrk were almost undoubtedly out. I might as well stay silent.

"Vincent" a voice called to me. I looked up to find the green boy standing a few feet away from me. He kept safe distance, something I have to say I admired him for. He was not trusting me so easily and I deeply respected and thanked that fact.

"Yes?" I answered back, pinning him with my gaze, a tactic taught by my strategic tutor—one that hopefully said stay away, you don't want to be near me. I thought I saw him stiffen as I turned my head.

"Uh, M-M'gann said to come let you know breakfast was ready." He said.

Megan? Who was Megan? And Breakfast? Was I required go or was it just a formality to inform me. I really didn't want to go, but my survival plan also dictated that I shouldn't ask questions or contradict the team members. I stood up and brushed myself off.

"Right, Please lead the way." I said, then froze in horror.

Oh god. Oh god, I requested something. I watched the boy acutely, as to not miss any movement so I could be ready to defend myself. But the attack never came. He simply turned around and walked toward the elevator.

I stood there for a split second, shell shocked. As I began following him, I started berating myself over my idiotic slip up.

 _Damnit 7552, you just had to go and request something. What if he attacked? You're unarmed, cuffed, and let's not forget that you have no idea what he can do. Stop being such an idiot and get your act together or you might just wind up dead!_

My internal monologue continued even into the kitchen where I saw only the green girl and a few others… including Superboy.

 _Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, you're not dead, stay calm. He's looking at you and he hasn't lunged yet, so you're probably in the clear just stay calm._

It was only then that I noticed, the green staring a me intensely and maybe a tad bit concerned. I lowered my head and sat quietly at the nearest free seat at the table which thankfully was not next to any of the team members.

It was then that a boy walked in accompanied by the older boy from the night before, I recognized his uniform that belonged to one of the most famous protégés in the world; Robin. I shuddered slightly at their entrance, knowing he and his mentor came close to killing one of the three surviving experiments.

"Are you Vincent?" Robin asked, looking at me even thought I was trying extremely hard to avoid eye contact with everyone.

"Yes, that would be me." I said, nodding slightly in his direction yet refusing to face him head on.

"Batman said to tell you you're expected to meet with Black Canary today." He said, then turned on his heel and walked out.

 _Perfect, more people want to talk to me. Just—just wonderful. What am I supposed to do if no one tells me what they want me to do. What I wouldn't give for my happy place right now. How am I supposed to see this Black Canary when I cannot leave this cave? Is this some sort of test?_

That thought only served to raise my anxiety levels. It was then that the green girl turned on me to explain.

"Black Canary was our combat instructor when the team was just starting out, but she was also the person to go to with problems. Almost like a therapy session. She should be here around noon." She said.

Was this girl a mind reader or something?

It was then that she handed me a plate with an omelet on it, most likely noticing that I was the only one without a plate. I hated omelets, but my survival plan dictated complete obedience.

I scarfed the monstrosity down.

Compared to some of the other boys, I ate slowly. In fact I was one of the last ones left… with superboy and the green girl accompanying me.

I walked over to the sink, moved the dirty dished over and started running some water, hoping in vain that cleaning would calm my nerves like cooking did. They almost worsened when I heard the next sentence uttered in the room.

"Is that Daemon?!" A voice yelled. I did not need t turn round, I already knew finally the inevitable had come. The accusations were beginning. "What is he doing here?"

"la'gaan, calm down. Batman and Nightwing agreed to put him on the team." The green girl said.

"On the team— _on the team!?_ Don't you remember what he did to you. M'gann, he crushed your legs!" The boy kept ranting behind me.

"oh god." I whispered in horror. I had crushed her legs, her of all people. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Superboy turn his head to look at me almost in surprise. I thought I was going to be sick. Quickly finishing the dishes, I put my hand to my mouth and rushed calmly to the restroom where I could empty my stomach in peace.

* * *

I believe I sat there for an hour after I finished upheaving, just shuddering to myself as I leaned over the toilet. Her legs… I had crushed her legs! And I didn't remember a thing about it.

I had never felt so cowardly in my life until that moment.

I heard the door to the bathroom swing open.

"Vincent?"

It as a woman's voice in the men's bathroom, but I would not spend time questioning that. Instead I would spend my time pulling myself together.

"Coming." I said, stepping out of the restroom, only then criticizing myself on how weird it must have seemed for me to just pop out of a restroom stall.

The woman on the other side was stunning in my opinion. She was tall, clad in tight black cloth that only covered her torso, accompanied by a black jacket—presumably leather—and a pair of black boots. Her hair war a striking shade of blonde, and the kindness in her face combated the fierceness of her appearance.

"Hello, I'm Black Canary. We have a session set up for today, so lets go, unless you want to talk here." The woman said, her voice firm, wary, and mothering all at the same time.

"Yes ma'am." I nodded to her, noticing as I caught her off guard. Did she expect me to say something like screw off? Yeah right, I don't want to die that soon.

I followed her to the kitchen. Why the kitchen, I have no idea. She most likely chose a place that I felt more comfortable in, more inclined to talk. It didn't really matter, I would have told her anything she wanted to know at any given time at any given place. When we were seated, she steadied me with a level gaze and the interrogation began.

"So, how has your stay been here?"

What?

I looked at her dumbfounded. How was my stay? _How_ _was my stay?!_ This woman had me in the palm of her hand, the most vulnerable position and she asks me how my stay has been.

"I do not think I understand your question." I said. How am I supposed to follow my survival plan if I have no idea what they're asking me.

"What I mean to say is, have you been happy since you came here."

Okay, I can answer this question. Happy… what exactly was happy supposed to feel like? How am I supposed to know if I feel happy? _I'm failing her test, I'm so screwed._

"I don't know." I admitted, hoping the truth would suffice her curiosity.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Black canary asked, seeming slightly set back.

"I do not know what happy is necessarily supposed to feel like. I am sorry I cannot answer your question to the full extent." I apologized. She seemed to catch on quick.

"Okay, what have you felt since you came here?"

"Panic, calm, terror… guilt. Many of the emotions are not good ones." I answered, finally able to give a direct one.

"And why do you think that is?" she sked.

"I have wronged many of the people here, and I have recently found that I was the cause of a very cruel incident concerning one of the members. They would not take my presence lightly and would most likely try to repay the favor." I explained.

"Vincent, how can you think that way?" She asked curiously, almost sadly. I was confused.

"Is that not human nature? I have been taught the philosophy of equal value, more commonly known as 'an eye for an eye.' It would only be fair for the same incidents imposed on the team were enacted upon me, but I am cowardly and would rather keep the use of my legs…and my life." I said.

"Vincent, you do know that will not happen to you here. If one of the team members did something unforgivable to you, would you turn right around and do that to them?" She asked, as if trying to set me in the shoes of my philosophy.

"Of couse not. That would be absurd." I answered back.

"Then why use this philosophy when you do not follow it yourself?" She asked.

"I do follow the philosophy. 'Eye for an eye of the master, gold for the eye of the slave.' Being the inferior, I have no right to take something of equal value." I said matter-of-factly. The woman gazed at me silently for a few seconds, almost in shock. What could she have been thinking? Was I failing her expectations? Would I loose my freedom?

* * *

This child. This misled, child. Dinah sat there staring at the boy who just so openly stated he was almost a slave; the inferior being with absolutely no doubt in his voice. His gaze stayed level the entire time tey were talking, and he seemed as if he knew it all… but all he knew was so _wrong_.

No Happiness? I am the inferior? What did they do to the kid? Even his so called philosophy made no sense!

"Vincent, do you want to share any of your experiences from your past?" she asked, folding her hands. "Maybe anything you remember when you had the helmet on."

He stiffened. She knew he as about to tell a lie.

"I do not remember anything when I put on the helmet." He stated, face unchanging from the static, near bored expression, body clenched in fear.

"Vincent, is that the absolute truth?" She asked, making him flinch.

She knew all she had to do was ask him and he would tell her. He was acting subhuman, inferior, and it was her job to change his way of thinking. She wanted him to tell her his past because he wanted to talk, not because he felt he was ordered to, but the lying could not continue if she was going to make any progress.

"No. It is not the entire truth, and I apologize sincerely for lying to you, but I do not wish to recount the few memories I have at this time if that may be permitted." He said, lowering his gaze to the table. A non-dominate action.

"Sure, whenever you feel ready to tell me about those experiences during one of our talks, go right ahead. Whatever you want to talk about or work through, I'm here to help and guide you."

Vincent's eyes shot uo to meet hers and her breath caught in her throat. Those unsettling, gorgeous blue eyes looked as if they were staring right through her soul before their edges crinkled slightly and his mouth turned upward into a a small, yet genuine and uunforgettable smile.

"Thank you very much."

* * *

 **I can't even begin to tell you how much time I spent trying to get Vinny's character down to somehing understandable yet not understndable in that really pittying way. He's almost like a kicked puppy, and you guys don't even know what his speialty is in the first place (its pretty fricken cool btw). I set this up to where he does not necessarilly need a mentor for fighting , but a menotr for mental healinig and social assimilation, so we're gonna have alot of scenes that encorperate BC.**

 **If you were here thinking this was for my other story, next capter should go up this weekend. Please followfor the next update. Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon!**


	3. Chapter 3

Black Canary and I talked about trivial things after our initial conversation, and she only asked questions I was comfortable with. It was… disturbing me with how much she seemed to care about my wellbeing. In all my life, I had never truly felt the compassion she showed me, and I felt both grateful and wary of her.

She was powerful and well seated in the Justice League. She had a say in what would happen to me if I upset her. She asked if I was eating well. She cared if I slept enough or if I had nightmares.

She was both a curse and a godsend.

"Vincent, can you tell me about your dreams?" She asked once I had admitted to having nightmares.

"I saw the suit." I said, trying to distance myself from the memory, but I still felt my heartbeat increase. "It was carrying a scythe and it was covered in blood. _I_ was covered in blood. He told me that is was my fault, our fault. And that it was time to end the suffering. It attacked me, going after my throat and then… I woke up."

Black Canary observed me for a few seconds, watching my reaction as I told my story before speaking her opinion.

"It seems easy for you to talk about something that only happened a few hours ago." She said, with a frown. "Why is that?"

"It is somewhat easy for me to compartmentalize my emotions." I admitted. "It was harder to do when I first came here, but I am trying to calm and reassure myself into the habit again so I am not as… afraid or skittish."

"Vincent, I don't necessarily think that is a good idea." Black Canary cautioned. "When you're on the job, which I assume you will be, that mentality is good. It might even be an asset, but in your everyday life, you might offend someone because you do not understand the gravity or insensitivity of your words, or your ability to empathize or feel guilt may be compromised."

I sat there and thought over her words for a few seconds, rolling them around in my head before I dared ask a question. Even if she promised me that our conversation was a safe place, I wanted to be sure that I was safe by taking the path of least resistance.

"Is… is that bad? Not being able to empathize?" I asked slowly, unsure.

"Why do you think it might not be?" She answered with a question.

"I think that… not being able to feel is easier. If I could forgo fear or nervousness or even hope, I think I could be better off." I answered. Black Canary's eyes softened.

"You may be able to forgo that without feeling, but you could also not recognize love or compassion." She explained gently.

"Do those really exist?" I blurted out before I felt my eyes widening and I hung my head. I made a mistake. I asked a dumb, idiotic, stupid question. Of course Black Canary believed in love and compassion, even if I didn't. I just mocked her beliefs. "I-I'm sorry, I did not mean to… please forgive me."

"Vincent, why are you apologizing?" She asked softly. I could not see her expression, as I kept my eeys trained firmly on the table.

"I asked an unnecessary question." I answered, head hung lowly. "It will not happen again."

Black Canary did not speak for several seconds and I felt panic rise in my throat. I fought to control it, to push it away like I could when I spoke of my dream, but my need for her acceptance drove me into too many emotions.

"Vincent, what did they do to you if you asked a question?" Black Canary asked.

 _White hot pain, searing heat in my mouth. I couldn't swallow, they would not give me water._

 _Laughter ringing in my ears as I felt searing fire running down the length of my back._

 _The sting of several lashes marring my skin for only mere minutes before the punishment would begin again._

 _The sounds of bones cracking and my screams echoing off walls, my body unable to move because of the constraints they applied. It would only be an hour before they would be able to repeat their actions._

 _Vomiting, the putrid smell, the intense waves of nausea from the experimental drugs._

"Please," I whispered. "I-I do not want to talk about those times. Any of those times. Ever."

Black Canary looked like she wanted to protest before she nodded, standing from her table. I felt fear rising in my throat, waiting for her judgement.

"Well have another talk next week." She said softly, and my eyes shot up to hers in both awe and confusion. "To talk through some more of these feelings. Is that okay?"

I nodded mutely, unable to form words. Was she waiting for me to slip up and say something incriminating or was she truly worried about my wellbeing. Was this her job, was she out to get me, did she really care?

"Alright, same time next week." She said with a smile before reaching out to me. I flinched but then stilled as she did. She slowly advanced and I felt every muscle in my body stiffen before I felt her slim hand pat my head as she passed. From there, she left me alone in the room.

I sat for minutes, just feeling the shock from her actions. She touched me. And it did not hurt. She pat me, as if to say 'good job' or maybe it was a goodbye or an affectionate gesture. The implications behind it were incredibly confusing but, in spite of the unclear intention, I felt a foreign warmth blossom in my chest. I liked the feeling, but I did not want to get my hopes up for it happening again.

* * *

When I was with Black Canary, the team had left for a mission. Alone in the large hideout, I made my way to the kitchen to prepare a late lunch. It was fairly easy, just a simple sandwich with bacon, tomato and lettuce. A guard had told me about this sandwich and they were easy to make, so I had grown fond of the process of making the bacon and building the sandwich. It was relaxing.

As I sat down to eat, I saw a flash and heard _B20 Robin, B19 Beast Boy, B04 Superboy, B05 Miss Martian._ With a stiffened back, I heard the heroes shuffling around in the next room as I ate as quietly as possible so I wouldn't attract attention. However, two heroes did enter the kitchen where I sat.

I heard both heroes stall when they saw my form, but then start up again as they moved around in the kitchen. I didn't look up, so I did not know who they were, nor did I really need to. I was content with eating my sandwich and not speaking to anyone in particular.

"How was your talk with Black Canary?" a kind voice asked. I looked up to see the green girl giving me a soft, friendly smile. Unsure how to answer, I thought for a second.

"It went… well." I said. "She is very kind."

The girl nodded in satisfaction before moving around the kitchen slowly, as if she were afraid to startle me. The other hero in the room was the green boy who, for the life of him, couldn't stop glancing in my direction every few seconds.

The boy was about to speak, I knew it, but then Robin came in. I lowered my gaze to my food so I could avoid his, but it seemed that I wouldn't be so lucky.

"He Daemon." He said. I looked up, staring just over his shoulder. He frowned before saying in frustration. "Look me in the eye, will you?"

 _Struggling to breath for air, the water clouding my eyesight as a scientist held my head under._

 _Forced to squat until I my legs gave out beneath me, and then starting again._

 _Feeling the sharp sting under my foot and the metallic smell of blood wafting from the new cuts that would only be fresh for a few seconds._

"Sorry." I said, before meeting his masked gaze. "Force of habit."

This seemed to take him back as his tense gaze faltered before it came back flawlessly only a split second later.

"Nightwing wants you in the training room early tomorrow morning." He informed. "I don't know why he couldn't tell you himself, but now you know."

I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"I see." I said, hoping to keep the fear out of my voice. "Thank you for your message. I will be sure to be there in the morning."

* * *

 **Sorry about the short chapter and slow update. I got a new job and, even though its summer, it takes up alot of my time. I will try and post a new, longer chapter next week.**


	4. Chapter 4

After that initial encounter with Robin, I retreated to my room for the rest of the day, staring at the ceiling as I lied in wait for the inevitable beating to come. Of course Nightwing wanted retribution, he and his mentor were all about justice… right? He was the batman's protégé, if I had to hazard a guess.

It was at times like this that I sorely missed the access I once had to an open, quiet kitchen or an upright piano. I remembered how one of the more tolerant scientists, a man with thinning hair and glasses dirtied with pushing them up so much, dragged an upright into my room and proceeded to teach me how to read music.

 _"There is no reason why you can't be the least bit cultured, boy."_ He'd said. " _I understand why they won't allow you to read, but music helps in mental and physical coordination. You'll be smarter by design, and that's exactly what we want. Now, let's see if your math skills are up to par."_

He was a very impatient teacher, but I learned quickly and came to love the piano… a bit too much. After one mission in particular, I had rushed back to my room with a small smile, eager to learn and play, but I found the large instrument missing from its corner.

I never saw the tolerant scientist again.

I rolled over to my side and contemplated asking Black Canary about it later, maybe share a few songs that I remembered. They had to have recordings of these, and I missed the soothing melody a piano could bring. She'd understand, wouldn't she? No, it would be too presumptuous of me to think that. But she did say that she was there to help me work through things… and it's probably her job to say those things as well.

A knock at my door broke me from my thoughts. I felt myself tense at the noise, staring at the door in both apprehension and fear.

"Vincent?" The kind, green girl called. Megan, if I remembered correctly.

I stood quickly, knowing when to take the gifts as they come. At least it wasn't Nightwing moving our spar up a few hours. I pulled the door open just enough to peek out, faced with the pretty girl and her eternally kind smile.

"Hey, dinner's ready." She said. "I wanted to let you know."

 _Do I have to go?_ I thought, dropping my eyes to the ground. _There has to be some form of punishment if I skip meals. No food means weak immune system and impaired reflexes, making the item less valuable. Taking away value means taking away pay and jeopardizing objectives. I-I can't jeopardize objectives, I'll get pu—_

"You don't have to come if you don't feel up to it!" The green girl said quickly, as if to stop my train of thought and force my eyes back up to her in surprise.

"If it's alright, I think it is better to be alone with my thoughts for now." I admitted, looking at her shoulder and not her eyes.

"Alright." Megan nodded. "If you ever need anyone to talk to… I'm here, you know."

"Thank you… Megan." I nodded, but then she giggled at me. I felt myself freeze at the sound, unsure of what I'd done wrong. It did not sound like a malicious laugh, but after laughter always comes—

"It's M'gann." She corrected me.

"M'gann?" I said slowly. I could tell the difference between the sounds of the names, but I didn't quite understand why she insisted on pronouncing it so uniquely.

"Yeah, it's spelled differently." She grinned, and I turned in on myself. I didn't know how to spell. I didn't even know the alphabet, forget how to spell. "Vincent, are you alright."

"Yes, I'm sorry for the mix-up." I said quickly, face reddening through my embarrassment. She studied me for a few seconds as I looked at the ground, hands clutching the doorframe and the handle of the door for a sense of stability.

"Its fine, Vincent." M'gann said, reaching up to ruffle the hair on my bowed head. It was the second time today that someone touched me affectionately and I felt my face go even redder. "Remember to eat something before you go to bed."

Nodding, I closed the door quickly after she left and decided to lay on the bed for a few hours. Maybe then I'd get over my embarrassment, and if I happened to hide under the thin blanket and sulk for the duration of that time, I'd never admit it.

* * *

A few hours later, I found myself in the kitchen. It was empty and prime for cooking, something I'd been missing. Opening cabinets to take stock of what they did and did not have, I again settled for pasta and I would try to create marinara sauce from scratch. Add a little of the thyme and basil they had stockpiled, and I'm sure never used, it would be delicious.

Setting up water to boil and laying out the ingredients neatly, I started working with a small smile on my face. If I really thought about it, my freedoms were wonderful. I was able to make choices for myself, I was well fed, I hadn't been put through pain or tests for the entire duration of my stay, and I'd been able to cook twice since I'd been here!

Life was looking pretty good… if I ignored my impending spar with Nightwing in the morning.

 _"B02, Aqualad."_ The computerized voice rang out, adjoined by the flash of light I'd come to detest. It meant that team member were returning, and it also meant that I would soon be screwing up. Again.

I forced myself to keep moving, breaking the angel-hair pasta and setting aside before I moved on to the marinara sauce.

"Tomatoes, olive oil, salt, garlic, thyme and basil." I said, looking over the ingredients before breaking out the skillet. Talking to myself had become a good reprieve of my thoughts since I was reluctant to voice such morbid things aloud. It let me focus and kept me on task most of the time, especially during some experiment's that focused on memory.

Moving about, I started chopping tomatoes and garlic, crushing thyme and checking the water before I was given a heart attack.

"This is not olive oil." A calm voice said, making me jump an inch off the ground. Turning slowly, I was faced with a tall black man with long, black tattoos spiraling down his arms. His hair was close cropped and blond, his eyes a piercing blue as he read over the bottle I'd procured from the pantry. ON his neck were what I'd thought to be gills, and his calves sported large fins that I couldn't decide were real or tools for his super persona. "Could you not tell?"

It took me a few seconds to register that he was talking to me, and so I shook my head in answer.

"It clearly says canola oil, on the front." He said, raising an eyebrow at me. I lowered my eyes, face reddening for probably the third time that day. "Can you not read?"

I didn't have to answer that, my reaction did it for me. I didn't dare look up, instead placing the knife I had on the counter and praying that this would soon be over. If I had, I'd notice the odd look on the man's face.

"I see." He'd said, taking in my form and categorizing me either as a threat or a nuisance, I was sure. "Your name is Vincent, correct?"

"Yes." I answered obediently. What was it about this man that reminded me so much of my time with the scientists? Was it the commanding, deathly calm demeanor he took, or was it just the fact that he's pointed out I couldn't read. It had always been a disability o rub in my face.

"You enjoy cooking?" he asked, moving about the kitchen towards the pantry.

"Yes."

"Why?" He asked, emerging again with something else in his hands. "From what I understand, you wouldn't have had access to a kitchen."

"Experiments were expected to pick up creative hobbies to counteract trauma induced by missions." I answered promptly. "I picked up cooking and piano."

"I see." He answered, placing the bottle of what seemed to be olive oil. I didn't really bother to check; my eyes were still properly trained on the floor like I had been taught. "And did they take care of you where you were from?"

At this I paused for a few seconds, the answer my trained mind threw out just on the tip of my tongue. But, would he like that answer.

"How so?" I dared to ask. "If you mean take care of me in a basic sense, then yes. I was fed, clothed, and given all the basic needs a human must have to survive. If you mean in a… more modern sense, no. No I was not."

The man did not say anything else, only stared at me and I had to wonder if this was the moment I was going to finally get ripped to shreds for being a monster.

* * *

He was as bad as they told him.

It was only a coincidence that Kaldur happened upon Daemon when he finally came back to the base. He'd been in Atlantis watching over the new prince when he'd gotten the news of Daemon's capture and the truth behind his attacks. To think that a boy, more like a slave, was forced to commit those crimes was farfetched and made the Atlantean question both Nightwing's and Batman's sanity.

Looking at the boy now, however, made Kaldur think twice.

 _He won't look you in the eye,_ M'gann had said. _He's been trained not to. He thinks it's disrespectful to look your better in the eye._

 _He doesn't see me as an equal?_ He'd asked.

 _No, he believes he's less than dirt._ Nightwing had supplied with a scowl. Kaldur thought for a few seconds that the hero actually agreed with the boy's thoughts.

 _On top of that, he won't ask questions._ M'gann continued. _He thinks he'll get punished for not knowing what he's supposed to do outright. That, and he thinks we're going to kill him at every turn. You won't be able to see it on his face, he doesn't really express himself. He's almost like he's just eternally screamin on the inside, and that isn't translating to the outside._

Looking at him now, he saw the behavior M'gann was so worried about. He was average height, lean and pale, black hair long enough to cover his blue eyes if he wanted. He used that to his advantage when Kaldur called him out, training them on the ground and not daring to look up.

His whole body screamed obedient and submissive, shoulders hunched and head bowed. He looked smaller than he should have, a far cry from the Daemon he'd come to know.

The Daemon that looked on coldly as he tried to slice out his organs.

The Daemon that had crushed the legs of one of his closest teammates.

The Daemon that jeopardized the league's identities.

The Daemon that did not kill, but lived to torture.

In that Daemon's place was a crushed child who thought nothing of the world. He couldn't even read the language of his people. He didn't ask for help, instead floundering in his ignorance because he thought he'd be punished. But what kind of punishment did he think he'd have to endure, and how did he plan to endure it with such a cold face.

 _Kal… they tortured him in there._ M'gann said once Nightwing had left. _He knows we won't do that, but every time he messes up, he thinks back on it and waits for it to happen._

"I am Kaldur'ahm." The Atlantean introduced himself. "I am the team leader. Nightwing has been taking my place for a few weeks due to my absence."

Vincent nodded.

"Look at me." He ordered. Vincent's head snapped to attention, though his eyes strayed to the taller boy's shoulder. "In the eyes."

It was a struggle, Kaldur could see. Vincent would meet his gaze, only to have it trail off again before coming right back.

"This is how we speak to each other politely on this team." Kaldur said, nodding to him. "It is considered rude to avoid eye contact. Please remember that you are now my teammate, not my enemy or an experiment."

Vincent nodded again, though a frown marred his face for a split second. Only a flash of emotion, but it proved he was more than the heartless robot Kaldur had come to imagine he would find behind the mask. The Atlantean didn't want to continue lecturing him, it seemed that this concept would take more than a few words to get through his head.

"Please excuse me." Kaldur said, turning to the door. "I'm feeling tired. Do not stay up too late. I believe Nightwing is in training with you tomorrow."

Vincent nodded remotely again, earning a sigh from the atlantean. Leaving him be, Kaldur wondered just how batman's protégé would bring the boy out of his shell.

* * *

A knocking at my door alerted me the next morning. I flinched from my position on my bed, rolling off quickly and getting to the door. Behind it stood the tall, imposing Nightwing with a scowl and glare firmly placed on his face.

"That was quick." Nightwing commented.

I nodded mutely, sure that I shouldn't speak in his presence. Thinking back to the first time I heard his voice, it was filled with so much malice that I was sure he would never be able to forgive me.

"Light sleeper?" He questioned further.

"I didn't sleep." I answered honestly. The older boy's eyes narrowed at me, before he let out a sigh that sounded too much like a growl.

"You have five minutes to get dressed and get into the training room." He ordered.

I nodded, closing the door quietly before dressing in the thin white pants and grey shirt before going to the room, all the while dreading what was to come.

 _He'll kill me._ I thought. _I can't fight back. I can't spar with him! I refuse to do it, they can't make me do it!_

With that resolve, I stepped into the room to find my teacher waiting in a tense stance, arms folded. He motioned me to come closer before examining me with a critical eye. Not a single thought showed on his face except annoyance and maybe frustration. He reminded me a lot of the batman.

"Stretch, then we spar." He said. "I'll ask you questions about what I need to know, and you should answer them to the best of your abilities."

I nodded before dropping to the floor in a catlike stretch, then shaking out my hamstrings in a fashion that felt beyond good. It felt nice to get small luxuries before my death.

"In what ways are you enhanced?" Nightwing asked.

"Speed, recovery, and minor strength." I answered as I moved into a middle stretch that would loosen my back muscles.

"Minor how?"

"More than the average human, lest than a meta-human."

"Any long-lasting injuries?"

"None."

"Training?"

"Battle tactics, weaponry, some martial arts and boxing."

"Where would you say your strength lies?"

"Weaponry, battle tactics a close second."

At that point, I stood again, signaling I was ready. Nightwing and I went to opposite sides of the room, facing each other. We were both somewhat on a professional level, I would assume, so we didn't bother with formalities. It was time to go at each other's throats, and we understood that.

He was the first to react and take initiative, coming at me quick and agile. I tried to prolong my misery, hoping that if he hit me enough, he would release enough anger that me might not kill me when he was done. With that in mind, I took every hit and kick with the best defense I was capable of. With the way his style was designed, he had a wide range of opportunity to hit me. We danced around the mat, him going for every opening I'd intentionally left open, and I didn't retaliate. I didn't dare take the opening to his solar plexus, or the one right to the back of his leg. I wouldn't aim for his neck and snap it like I should have, or jab him just under the ribcage to puncture a major artery.

After a few minutes of this his hits lessened in ferocity, almost curious in nature before they stopped completely, both of us standing in silence as we waited for each other to move.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" He asked seriously, both angered and frustrated. I didn't answer, only looked away from him. This was wrong, and I knew that when he fisted the front of my shirt and brought my face inches from his. "Did you think it was funny to let me just beat it out of you! This is a spar!"

"I don't—" I said, shaking my head.

"You don't what?" He asked angrily.

"I don't want to kill you!" I yelled, breaths coming in exasperated bursts as my mind went haywire. Nightwing's eyes widened as he let go of my shirt, watching me freak out. "I can't do it!I couldn't do it in the labs, and I can't do it now! I! Can't! Please, don't ask me to do this, I don't want to kill you!"

There was a silence between us, the only sound my ragged breathing as I tried to force my panic down my throat.

"Vincent, you thought you were here to kill me?" He asked, shaking his head. "This is a spar."

"Yes, a _spar!_ " I cried. "Every time they told me to spar, they wanted my opponent or me eliminated! I don't want to kill anyone here!"

"Calm down." Nightwing said, taking a step towards me, but I stepped away from him as he did so. Noticing my retreat, he frowned to himself. "That's not how we spar here. Our hits should be nonlethal and it's meant to teach. Both parties should walk out on their feet, if slightly bruised."

" _What?"_ I asked with in a freaked out nature. I shook my head, taking a seat on the mats as my heart started beating faster and faster and my breathing became quicker, I placed my head in my hands at the realization.

* * *

Dick didn't know what to do as he looked at the panicked from of Daemon, something he never expected to see from the expressionless boy.

 _He thought he was supposed to kill me._ He thought, _and he was prepared to take a brutal beating instead, maybe worse._

"Vincent, look at me." He said, coming to the boy's side and trying to force the thoughts in his head to come to a stop. "Look at me."

The boy's blue eyes shot up to meet the hero's, reminding him of a caged animal ready to flee at any moment. He could only imagine how many times the kid had to go through this same situation in his life.

"Now breathe slowly." Dick ordered.

If anything, Vincent was obedient. He immediately tried to slow his breathing and focus on other things. It was like he understood he was having a panic attack. He had experience with these things. Once his breathing was under control, Dick started taking in slow, short sentences, careful so that the boy would understand every word.

"You don't kill. We don't expect you to kill." He said. "We don't kill here. We don't kill in our spars. We do not kill. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded, face contorting into a mixture of relief and shame.

"Stay in sight. I'm going to make a call. Focus on your breathing." Dick said, before pulling a communicator out of his belt. It would connect him to Alfred, then hopefully to the person he knew could help.

"Agent A?" Nightwing asked.

"Yes, how can I help you sir?"

"Can you connect me to Black Canary by any chance?"

"Right away sir."

The noise clipped out to be replaced with a ring, then a second, and a third. Dick waited, glancing back at Vincent a few times to make sure he wasn't falling back into panic before the woman finally answered.

"Nightwing?" She asked, surprised. "Is something wrong?"

"It's Vincent." He explained. "I was sparring him today to check his skill level, but he fell into a panic attack."

"What?" The woman asked, both surprised and a bit angry. "He doesn't seem the type to get a panic attack from just sparring."

"It wasn't the spar, he thought we were fighting to the death and refused to kill me. Instead, he decided to take the punches." Dick explained quickly. "It doesn't seem like this first time he's been in that situation either. He understood he was having a panic attack and was quick to follow the right instruction."

"I'll be there in a little bit." Black Canary said. "Keep an eye on him, but don't overload his senses. Make sure you're within his sight, but not too close. His subconscious might think you're about to attack him. If you do that, I assure you that he will try to kill you to the best of his abilities."

"Understood." The boy said, cutting out of the call.

Now to wait.

* * *

 **I have absolutely no idea how people keep finding this story months after I last updated. I think I got about ten followers in just the last week alone.**

 _ **Anywho,**_ **here we see a bit of digression in character. The healing will come later, but by being thrust into a new environment and faced with new rules and regulations, some people tend to have their mental health decline more quickly than it should. This is what I'm going to consider the conditioning phase, where Vin backtracks and then is forced to move forward.**

 **He will be able to fight once he understands that killing is no longer his end-all-be-all objective. He now has options, he just can't see them just yet.**

 **And he doesn't know what the others know. He assumes he's killed wile under the influence of the mask while everyone else knows differently, even though some believe killing would have been more merciful.**

 **Just a little play by play here, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Adieu.**


	5. Chapter 5

I don't remember much of what happened after Nightwing had me sit out. A lot of it is a blur of instructions and movement. I remember somewhat hearing Black Canary in the room, but I was too focused on the fact that they knew.

They knew how defective I truly was.

I had outright stated insubordination, but now they could see the full extent of how useless I would be. Now that I was once again staring up at my ceiling, I thought through what they were probably planning on doing to me.

Sell me off? No, that would create liabilities.

Would they help me? That was too presumptuous a thought.

Kill me? That was the most likely course of action.

I would have to apologize for my defective qualities if I was going to survive. I wondered if they were disappointed that they were saddled with me as a teammate. Were teammates usually this damaged?

A soft knock on my door brought me to my feet and out of my planning. Opening it a crack, I looked at the face of Black Canary before lowering my eyes to her shoulder. She wouldn't want me to act so mighty after just witnessing a weakness.

"Can I come in?" She asked kindly. Not responding, I only opened the door for her. She stepped inside and surveyed the room, taking in the sparse furniture before drawing me to sit on the bed with her. The action felt almost homely and careful. "How are you feeling?"

"Calm." I answered in half-truth. "I am sorry you witnessed that."

"Vincent, it's alright." She said, patting my shoulder lightly.

"No, it is not." I shook my head. How I got the courage to contradict her, I would never know, but I felt I had to set her straight. This was not how things were supposed to run. "I am defective. This should never be an outcome in a high stress situation."

"You are _not_ defective." She said forcefully, putting a hand to my cheek and forcing me to look her in the face. "That was a human reaction, and you are _human_ Vincent. You are not defective, you are just distraught. This is a new environment with looser expectations that you don't understand. Nightwing told me you didn't get any sleep last night, and that only contributed to this episode."

I nodded along with her explanation, although it was a foreign concept to me. Of course I was human, most everyone was. I was just… not in her position. I was not an equal.

"You need to take better care of yourself. It's okay to ask questions, and it's okay to feel scared or out of your depth, but that is no excuse to lose sleep." She said, and I glanced away from her. I could tell she caught on from the way her body shifted. "Or… is it the nightmares you're trying to avoid?"

My mouth thinned into a line, shame pouring into my body like fire that wouldn't go out.

"It is the same one. Every night." I answered. "I wake up in a cold sweat and I don't want to go back to sleep and see it again. Instead, I go to the kitchen."

"The kitchen?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Cooking… is a hobby." I said, looking away. "It's calming, like playing the piano."

"You play the piano too?" She asked, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

"A little. It's nothing extravagant, but I can read the music." I said.

"Vincent I don't mean to pry, but from what I understand, you can't read." She said, not beating around the bush. My mouth thinned more as my face flushed slightly.

"I don't know the alphabet." I answered. "Only the staff lines and spaces."

Black Canary nodded, before leaning onto her knees, hands folded under her chin as she contemplated her next words.

"I want to come talk with you every Monday to keep tabs on your progress here." She said finally. "Is that alright?"

I nodded. I didn't really know why she asked me when she could just set whatever schedule she pleased. It was a nice thought, though, that she would see me more often. I liked talking with her, even though I was unsure of her sincerity.

"Alright, I expect you to eat something and then get some sleep tonight. I'm going to talk to Batman about getting you something to help you sleep through the night without dreams. Maybe a pill or a serum." She said. "Are you okay with taking medications? You can say no, but I want you to understand that I wouldn't give them to you if I didn't think it would help."

I thought it over and, honestly, the thought didn't bother me as much as it probably should have. Maybe it was because the scientists usually liked syringes than having me swallow pills to get their results. Another positive is that I would no longer see the bodies, hear the screams, or feel the panic every time I closed my eyes.

"I am… fine with that." I answered slowly, surprised with my own answer.

"Alright then. You should expect to see him sometime in the next month." She said, patting my head as she stood. "Now go eat something and sleep."

"Yes." I said, before I felt my mouth pull into something fairly foreign. "Thank you."

* * *

Once Black Canary left, I set out to follow her instructions. Stepping into the kitchen and moving toward the fridge, I was eager to eat some of the spaghetti I had made the night prior. I liked the flavor, and it would definitely put me to sleep quickly with the abundance carbohydrates in it.

However, I couldn't find it in the fridge. Looking about the large container, my pasta had vanished into the night. I frowned, a little upset that my snack had been unduly denied, but then I stopped that thought. It wasn't right for me to be upset here, not with the liberties I had been given so far.

"Oh—," a voice said into the open air, making me turn slowly toward it. Behind me stood a redheaded boy, younger than me by only a few years. Upon his face was a genuine smile as he looked me over, bouncing on his feet. "Daemon, is that you?!"

I froze on instinct, watching the boy as if he were a threat. I cataloged him like there was no tomorrow, taking in his height, weight, looks, and probable abilities.

"Oh man, you're finally here! This is so crash!" He said, and then he was right before me in seconds.

 _Super speed,_ I noted as I took two steps back and hit the open fridge. The boy grinned at me as he looked me up and down in awe.

"Man, look at you. You're so young. Did they capture you finally, or did you break out of the labs. I told them you wouldn't be able to get through that helmet, and it seems like they finally listened." He said, coming even closer to me. There was no escape, there was only action.

With a quick jab to his solar plexus, he was winded and clutching his stomach. From there, I brought my knee up with the intention of breaking his nose, but it only met air.

"You sure still pack a punch." He said from across the room. "Forgot about your personal space issues."

I felt my face fall into a glare as I stared at the boy, planning any and every way to cut off his exits and counteract his speed. He wouldn't get far, but would I have to take lethal action? Maybe if I just broke a leg he would stop moving for a few seconds. Nightwing did say they didn't kill.

" _Oooh_ , there it is!" He smiled in excitement, standing up to his full height. "The whole split second strategizing! I bet you've already planned fifty ways to stop me from leaving this room and maybe twenty more to disable me. Pleasure to meet you, truly!"

"What is going on, Impulse?" A familiar voice asked. I turned to Nightwing, unaware that the petulant look on my face was still present. He took one look at my face and a smirk crossed his, probably finding my obvious annoyance funny. "Oh, I see you met our speedster."

"And I met him!" He said, flashing to the older boy's side. "You should've seen it! A quick jab to the solar plexus, then a follow knee to the face. If I wasn't quick, he'd have had me on the floor."

"What?" The older boy asked in both surprise and a bit of anger.

"Don't get angry, he didn't know me." Impulse said quickly. "And I did invade his personal space. A lot."

Nightwing shook his head before looking at me, gauging the sincerity behind the boy's words. My face felt like stone as I kept me stare on the redhead, mouth turned into a thin line and eyes pinioned on the boy's chest as I strategized how to temporarily paralyze him. My muscles, taught as they were with anticipation, were itching for movement. I was shocked because I had never taken to violence on my own and wanted to normally take an alternative route. Maybe this was just a practiced reaction induced by the helmet, like muscle memory.

"Vincent, stand down." Nightwing ordered sternly, eyes looking pointedly to my hand. My gaze traveled there to find a knife I didn't even notice I was holding, brandished in a lethal position prime for the kill. My eyes widened as I placed it back on the counter and closed the fridge.

"I apologize for my actions." I said monotonously. "It was a habitual reaction, and will not happen again."

Impulse frowned in my direction, thrown off by something in my words. I did not speak further, instead opting to look back into the fridge. Turning my back to the two took too much effort, and I could barely focus on my task as I listened for their every movement. The silence was tense and awkward, but I had to work through it. I had to eat.

Black Canary said so.

"What are you looking for?" Nightwing asked suddenly, and I felt my hand flinch at the sudden inquiry.

"I made pasta last night, and left some in here." I answered simply. "But it is gone now."

"That was yours?" A new voice exclaimed.

I turned around again to find Robin with a sheepish look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. It seemed like he was guilty of something by the way his body language spoke.

"I thought M'gann made it." He said. "Sorry, Vincent."

Sorry. What a foreign word. Hearing it made me feel uneasy, undeserving, and shameful. I shook my head quickly with a slight frown.

"Please do not apologize." I said. "I can make something else."

With that, I quickly turned back to the fridge and closed it.

"If you're going to be cooking, why don't you start dinner?" A new voice said, and I saw M'gann float into the room. Ah, so she flies. I wondered what her other abilities had to be. "It'd be nice to have someone else cooking around her for once. I'll help out this time."

And like that, the green girl directed me around the kitchen and we set upon making dinner.

It was odd, and I felt I was in an almost trance-like state the entire time. It was like I was on auto-pilot or something, but it was incredibly relaxing. I felt tension slowly edge away from my muscles and a small smile spread over my face as I stirred the alfredo sauce. M'gann was handling the chicken in the oven while I was creating the pasta and the desert she'd just decided I'd make. Maybe angel-food cake would be nice. The recipe was ingrained in my mind, and the actual creation of it was by far the most relaxing of any foods to make.

We didn't talk much, only moved about the kitchen in tandem to work on our dishes. Once the final product was done, we set the table and M'gann called everyone to dinner that was available.

It was then that I broke out of my trance and realized I would have to spend an entire meal with the team. And they would be able to see me. They had to have known about my defectiveness by now. They _had_ to.

And not everyone was like Black Canary or Nightwing or M'gann.

In my panic, I didn't notice M'gann's look of worry or how she quickly floated over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Why don't you go shower for a bit?" She asked. "You had a workout today and you haven't gotten much of a chance to rest or collect your thoughts."

She was giving me an out. I was going to take that out with every fiber in my being screaming thanks.

"Thank you." I whispered before moving. We were the only ones left in the kitchen, Impulse and Robin having moved towards the large television in the next room and Nightwing having gone to look over information for upcoming missions. I hurried out of the room and into mine to grab some clothes before going to the showers.

A good soak might help clear my head and calm my nerves.

* * *

 **Sorry for the shorter chapter, but the next plot point is going to happen soon, and i really didn't want to break it up. Let's just say, Daemon is going into interrogation finally.**

 **And things may or may not go smoothly. I don't know, I haven't figured out how much I want Vincent to suffer before he gets any better. Does that make me horrible?**

 **Probably.**

 **Please enjoy.**


End file.
